You all are totally on my page. Flying is scary enough just by itself, and now they have made it miserable. I hate all the fake security of thinking that feeling up a fat black woman and looking under her dreadlocks is going to prevent terrorism. I have arthritis in my knees. How fast do they think I can move? What would I have to do if I wanted to take over the cockpit? I can barely get through the aisle to the lavatory.
If not for my husband and daughter, there are several times when I would have just melted down, gone ghetto and cursed out the TSA so bad their naked machine would explode:
"No, I will not
submit to enhanced effing scrutiny. You touch me and I'll break your goddamn arm! Eff you, your daddy and your mama. I was not planning any effing terrorism when I got here this morning, but now I'm about to change my goddamn mind. I wish I knew how to blow up a goddamn airplane with the multi-tool, the souvenir bar of soap, the large 6 dollar cup of coffee and the swiss army knife you confiscated from me. If I could figure that out, I'd get a Nobel Prize.
I'm hungry and cranky and my feet hurt. You don't give us no food on the plane, the sh!t you sell here costs a day's pay and if we bring our own you might take it away, 'cause you never know if a sandwich and drink from home might be made of plastique.
You mutha effers cut a piece out of the handmade basket I was taking to a friend for a wedding gift because you thought I was a drug smuggler. Well guess what, I am a goddamn drug smuggler! I have millions of dollars of drugs hiding in my body crevices. And I haven't had a bath in ten effing years! Have fun!
Tell you what, I don't need to get anywhere that effing bad, goddamn! Just leave me and my belongings the eff alone! Let me outta this effing airport. I'll walk to New York and then swim to Europe. Sheeeit."
If not for the fact that I would get an unplanned free trip to eastern Cuba, the standing ovation from the other passengers might just be worth it.